


A Rare Find

by hit_the_books



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Book Seller Will, Bookshop Owner Will Graham, Bottom Will Graham, Come Inflation, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bite In the Heat of the Moment But Will is Fine with it, Mating Bites, Omega Verse, Omega Will Graham, Psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter, Top Hannibal Lecter, belly bulge, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28548543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 343
Collections: MHBB2020





	A Rare Find

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHH!
> 
> My first fic for a Hannibal bang and it's the MHBB. It's also my first full Hannigram A/B/O story :D
> 
> Thanks to my artist Ahumokio ([1impulsivefloweruniverse](https://1impulsivefloweruniverse.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr).
> 
> Thanks to my beta [vinylmurdersuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinylmurdersuit).
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this little AU. See you in the comments.

Underneath the odor of musty vellum and leather jackets, beneath the fading sheets of paper and cracked spines, dark wood shelves polished and waxed, lies the scantest scent of omega. It’s mostly nullified by the neutralizers that Will Graham has placed throughout his store, and the suppressants he takes, but the faintest hint remains. Not that many customers come into Graham’s Books. Will primarily runs his business through its website and online auctions, but the store is available for browsing by appointment only and so Will occasionally finds himself in the physical presence of a customer as opposed to the couriers that he dispatches with his customer’s purchases.

“I can have the Bell ready for shipping tomorrow,” Will tells his customer over speaker phone as he checks over the copy of _Anatomy of the Brain_ by Charles Bell that he has laid out on his workbench. “It’s too late to find a courier now, but it will be with you by Wednesday.”

Will listens to a long labored sigh from his customer, a new one, someone Will hopes he won’t have to work with again, as the alpha on the other end of the line has been nothing but a pain to work for. Yes, Will understands that he’s selling books and journals worth hundreds, if not thousands of dollars—but it doesn’t mean he has to put up with such rudeness when he’s the one in possession of the precious resource for which he could find many other eager, more polite, buyers.

“Are you sure you couldn’t just bring the book up to me?” the male alpha asks, voice twisting with command.

It has minimal effect on Will, who rolls his eyes and grits his teeth for a moment before answering, “Unfortunately, I am unable to leave my store for such a length of time.” A lie, but this alpha doesn’t know the trade like Will does, and certainly doesn’t know that Will can disappear for weeks at a time as he goes to auctions to buy books for his more prestigious customers. Customers who respect his expertise and judgment, and are willing to pay him well enough to personally escort their purchases to their private libraries. Will rarely gets involved in bidding over the phone. These tomes are often of such rarity and import that they need a personal touch—and Will is a well-regarded seller and buyer in his field of dealing in rare volumes from the medical and psychiatric professions.

Finally, the new customer acquiesces and the call ends. Will leans over his work bench, burying his face in his arms as he tries to bring his temper back to something more manageable. Feeling his heart rate slowly level out to something resembling inner calm, Will sets about securing the Bell in the protected metal box for the courier pick up in the morning. It’s been a long Monday in the shop, but Will is always glad that he can work, that he isn’t some pampered omega who only needs to sit back and produce pups for their alpha—his present situation a benefit of the laws of both Maryland and Virginia, allowing omegas to work and own businesses, though only in certain professions.

With the Bell safely boxed up, Will contacts his preferred courier service and arranges a collection time for the following morning. Once that’s done, Will goes through the store and begins his usual wind down routine. The clock on the wall near his work bench says it’s nearly five and Will is itching to get out and go home to his dogs, an hour away. He’ll maybe heat up the tuna casserole Alana left for him the night before, concerned yet again Will is struggling to look after himself. Not that Will doesn’t appreciate the beta’s sentimentalism, Will is (despite spending much of his life looking like a neglected waif, with curling dark brown hair, light beard and freakishly disappearing glasses) quite capable of looking after himself— _thank you very much_.

Looking to his right, past the Bell, Will’s eyes go wide as he spots another customer’s order, all sealed in brown wax paper and ready to be _collected_. He’d forgotten that one customer had said they’d collect in person today and Will curses himself for not remembering, or at least insisting more strongly that he could post it. But Doctor Lecter, a regular customer of his, had insisted that he would come by the store to collect his purchase, because he was only based some twenty minutes away and was going to be passing Will’s store today en route to another engagement.

The thing was, like ninety-nine percent of his customers, Will had never met Doctor Lecter in person before. And while the alpha who bought the Bell did absolutely nothing for Will, there was something about Doctor Lecter’s voice that always makes Will blush and feel just a tiny bit wet. Sometimes more than a tiny bit. He could tell Doctor Lecter was an alpha, the command in his voice was always clear though equally polite. Just thinking about it arouses Will and he heads to his personal restroom to splash water on his face and calm down. _What is his accent?_ Will ponders as he splashes his face again and works to regain his composure.

Feeling a touch calmer, Will checks that the neutralizers are working and then sets about making sure the rest of the store is all in order so that he can just give Doctor Lecter his book and go. Inside the wax paper is a first edition English copy of Sigmund Freud’s _Interpretation of Dreams_ , printed back in 1913. At a hundred years old it is not the oldest book Will has had for sale, but it does make him chuckle that Doctor Lecter, a psychiatrist who has derided Freud to Will over the phone, wants a copy of the book.

Time seems to speed up and go slow as Will adjusts the display in the front, wide glass windows of the shop. The windows are coated in a gel that stops the most damaging of the sun’s ultraviolet rays from discoloring the jackets of the books on display there. The least rare publications are shown in the window, ones that were they to be lost—it would be a disappointment, but only a mild inconvenience.

He heads back to his workbench and the waiting Freud. He secures the Bell in the safe, along with the other, most expensive tomes Graham’s Books is home to. Will finds himself pushing his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it out a little. He checks his clothes, making sure his green plaid shirt is tucked into his teal slacks, and that the arms of his maroon corduroy jacket with leather elbow patches are not too wrinkled. _God, why am I doing this? Get a grip_ , Will lets out a long breath and tries to center himself. And yes, okay, it has been a while since anyone, regardless of gender or designation, has been in his bed or he in theirs. Maybe he googled Doctor Lecter a couple of times and watched recordings of him presenting papers he’s written. He is also aware that Doctor Lecter features somewhere in Alana’s social circles—a former mentor from her student days.

But until fifteen minutes ago, Will had been doing a very good job of forgetting all of the above _and_ that Doctor Lecter would be stopping by. _He probably has someone_ , Will thinks, _stop acting like you’re in high school. You’re a professional. You sell rare books to people with either expensive or discerning tastes. And this is a crush that you should just set aside_. Will nods to himself.

The bell above his door rings and Will swallows hard. He picks up the wrapped Freud and makes his way to the front of his store, arming himself with the neutral expression of a professional bookseller as he takes in the sight of Doctor Lecter in the flesh, for the first time. A long, pale gray coat covers an exquisitely fitting three-piece checked suit in a mix of browns, with an egg shell blue shirt, and swirling tan paisley tie. His shoes look equally expensive and gleam in the low light of the store.

Will breathes deeply through his nose. The neutralizers set along the walls and shelves struggle to cover up Doctor Lecter’s scent, which reminds Will of deep red wines, aniseed and something a little bitter, perhaps a hint of lemon. At the sound of Will’s inhale, Doctor Lecter’s eyes meet his and a small smile curls his lips before Will looks away on instinct.

“Good evening, Mister Graham. I trust you are well?” Doctor Lecter inquires, his voice its usual deep honeyed tone. The good doctor had always been most courteous and polite in his phone conversations with Will. If he’s affected by being in Will’s presence, he shows no sign of it.

“Well enough,” Will says, voice more level than he feels. “Here.” He steps closer to hand him the wrapped book, and as Doctor Lecter takes the package from Will, their fingers brush. The contact makes Will’s breath hitch and he can’t help looking up into Doctor Lecter’s eyes, which suddenly are not as cool as they were a moment ago.

Doctor Lecter stands frozen, book in hand, not looking away from Will. Neither speaks as silence draws out between them. Will can smell the hint of interest and desire that is slowly edging its way from Doctor Lecter and Will already knows that his own scent is clamoring to overcome his suppressants. He’ll have to air out the store in the morning.

Finally finding his voice, Doctor Lecter says, “Thank you, Mister Graham. Or, perhaps I may call you Will?”

Will’s jaw ticks. “You may… What should I call you?”

Doctor Lecter smiles. “Hannibal, please. I hope you don’t think me too impertinent, but I was wondering if you might do me the honor of joining me for dinner later this week, say Friday?” he asks, voice just a note less sure, it’s almost imperceptible but Will hears it. Hannibal strikes him as someone who tries to be in control at all times, but in Will’s presence that control is edging away.

A blush slowly rises to Will’s cheeks. It’s been a long time since anyone has asked him on what is clearly a date and if this was some random alpha he would be saying no, but Hannibal’s reputation precedes him. He looks Hannibal over and sees that the man he’s been admiring from a distance is so much more alluring in person. “Sure,” Will replies, “that would be… nice.”

“Excellent. Dinner will be at seven. You know where I live, yes?”

Will chuckles. “Yes.” He quickly tries to remember what one does when dining as a guest, what social mores are expected of him. “Should I bring anything?” Will hazards.

“If you’d like to bring a bottle of wine—that would be most gracious. But don’t worry about food, I will be providing all the courses.”

 _Courses?!_ Will’s eyes go a little wide at that, but then he schools his expression back to one of polite interest. “Okay, I’ll do that. Thank you, Hannibal,” Will says.

“Good. I’ll see you Friday. Have a pleasant evening, Will.”

“You too, Hannibal.”

***

Back in Wolf Trap, it takes the dogs making a racket as Will reaches his front porch, for him to finally snap out of whatever fugue state being in Hannibal’s presence has pulled over him. He can’t quite remember the hour long drive back, but Will is undeniably home. He mentally kicks himself for being so distracted by an alpha as the chill of the evening starts to settle into his bones.

 _This is why I prefer books, dogs and fishing to people_ , he muses as he opens up the house and the dogs come rushing out, _I get to keep my own mind_. But even Will knows that being an omega isn’t the only reason he is so affected by others. His ability to read alphas, betas and other omegas is almost preternatural, or at least that is how his old friend Jack Crawford, an alpha in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit puts it. Really, Will’s imagination is what drives these insights and it’s almost painful—it certainly puts a damper on romance much of the time.

As he lets his pack do their thing, Will stands on the porch, breathing in the fresh air and realizes that with Hannibal, he hadn’t been able to get a read on him that Hannibal didn’t allow him to have. Every word, touch, moment of eye contact had been a dance around Will, drawing him in perfectly. Part of Will thinks he should be feeling like he’s been tricked, but actually it was nice to retain his own head space as he talked with Hannibal.

Inside his house, Will sets about making sure there’s food for the dogs and then turns to making his own dinner. Jacket off and top shirt buttons undone, Will starts to really relax for the first time today. He warms up the oven and sets the tuna casserole inside to heat up. As it cooks, Will calls Alana, talking over the speaker as he puts some previously washed dishes away and gets some green beans cooking on his stove top.

“Good evening, Will,” Alana greets. “How’s your day been?”

“Good? Thanks for the tuna casserole by the way, just warming it up now.”

“Good? You never say ‘good’. What happened?”

Will licks his lips, wonders how much he should say. He feels like a teenager hiding a crush. After a half minute of silence he finally says, “A customer came by the store today.”

“They did?”

“Mhmm. A regular of mine, though normally I just send his books over to his place. You might know him.”

“Will, please, who was it?”

“Doctor Lecter. You know him from school, right?”

Alana gives a light chuckle. “Small world. Yes, I know Hannibal.”

“You’re on a first name basis huh?” Will rushes over to the beans and turns the heat down as the water tries to boil over from up under the lid.

“We still talk, occasionally. He sends me cards on my Birthday and Christmas.”

“Well, I have a date with him, this Friday,” Will announces in a rush, giddy from the admittance.

“Oh, Will! That’s wonderful. What are you doing?”

“He’s cooking dinner for us.”

“Sounds lovely,” Alana says and then there’s a sound in the distance on her end of the line. “Just a moment, Margot. Okay, you enjoy the casserole. I need to go. You need to speak to me before Friday though.”

“Why?” Will asks.

“Because we need to pick out your outfit.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Sure. Can you help me choose a wine?”

“Of course.”

The call ends and Will checks the tuna casserole, satisfied it’s cooked, before finally taking the green beans off the heat. He eats at his small table, a bottle of beer to hand and imagines what Friday will be like.

He sees beautifully presented food that tastes out of this world, Hannibal elegantly presented and the promise of so much more.

***

The bottle of wine in Will’s hands is a Bordeaux that has had good reviews online and is one that Alana helped him choose. The clothes on his back are the ones that Alana didn’t turn her nose up at when he emailed her photos of the contents of his wardrobe. When he goes to auctions, he normally wears a simple charcoal gray suit, with white shirt and dark, boldly striped tie. Alana discounted those items immediately, and instead Will is in a plain red shirt, thick cotton, and deep brown slacks. The brogues on his feet are a deep brown and Will hopes that Hannibal doesn’t mind spending time around someone so plainly dressed—though Will did at least put a comb through his hair before leaving the house.

Will knocks on Hannibal’s front door and a few moments later the older alpha opens the door, lips set in a welcoming smile that manages to reach his eyes. His pale blue suit and eggshell shirt are balanced out with a beige tie—he looks perfect as the entry stairs exaggerate his slight height difference, making him loom over Will.

“Welcome, Will. I’m so glad you could join me,” Hannibal greets, voice rumbling through Will. He ushers Will into the house and spots the bottle of wine clasped in his hands. “That looks excellent,” Hannibal says with a smile. He helps Will take his coat and scarf off, hanging them up in his hallway closet.

Once he is unburdened, Will takes in his surroundings. The floor is tiled, the walls hung with pieces of art that look expensive. Vases stand here and there, punctuating the dark paint of the walls.

“You have a lovely home,” Will says as he breathes in the pure scent of the alpha, no longer neutralized by the chemicals of his store. If there is a scent that speaks of perfection, want and grace, it is Hannibal’s scent as he leads Will through his home and towards a dining room. Mixing with the smells from the kitchen, Will feels hungry and increasingly aroused as he picks up the undercurrents of Hannibal’s own desire. A part of Will, no longer restrained by the neutralizers, speaks of _mate_ and wanting to skip dinner altogether.

“Thank you, please, take a seat,” Hannibal purrs as he pulls out a chair for Will. “Relax and I will see to everything.” And it is a switching of situations by some people’s standards—the alpha doting so domestically on an omega. But Will knows that in different cultures there are different expectations as to who looks after who and those who think it is a modern and right thing for roles to be somewhat changed up. Will suspects that Hannibal lies somewhere between being a modern renaissance man and leaning on his homeland culture.

Hannibal takes the wine and disappears in what Will assumes by the smell is the direction of the kitchen. The table is set with fine silverware and crystal wine glasses, and perfect bone china plates. The table looks to be mahogany, though Will isn’t sure. _Would an alpha like Hannibal allow me to continue running my own business?_ Will contemplates as he waits.

Little time passes before Hannibal brings in the Bordeaux in a decanter, followed by several tureens of cooked vegetables and then a large silverware dish with what looks to be a roasted pig, setting it down on the table.

“Brined and roasted whole suckling pig,” Hannibal announces as he finishes setting the dish between the head of the table and Will’s seat.

Will feels his stomach rumble. “It looks and smells delicious.”

“You’re too kind. I hope you feel the same once you begin to eat.” Hannibal begins to carve up the meat, delicately placing morsels of it on Will’s plate and then adding little mounds of pureed carrot, caramelized apple slices and piped potato. It all looks incredibly rich. He pours wine for them both and takes his place at the head of the table.

Will has to hold back a groan as he takes his first mouthful, but he can tell that Hannibal has sensed just how much Will is enjoying the meal. He feels Hannibal’s eyes burning into him with each bite of food.

“So, Will, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you come to be a seller of rare books?” Hannibal asks after the initial few bites of their meal. There’s no way Will can tire of listening to him, he’s decided.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the few choices for work omegas have,” Will explains, “and after college-”

Hannibal’s breath catches a little at that— _see not just a pretty face, am I, Doctor Lecter?_

“I found I had grown quite fond of old books. It also helps that I have a… bargaining position that I can use to my advantage.”

“Do sellers find themselves unable to say ‘no’ to such a sweet omega?” Hannibal asks in a wry voice.

“‘No’ is certainly difficult. And I use suppressants and still they find it complex to negotiate with me. Omegas and betas drive a harder bargain, but they’re usually less likely than alphas to be hoarding mountains of knowledge for the sake of showing off. No disrespect meant, Hannibal. I’m sure you don’t hoard the books and journals and diaries I’ve put in your hands over the years.” Will takes a sip of wine, letting the warming smooth liquid seep into him and give him courage. “I’m sure you genuinely love the knowledge I’ve brought you.”

Hannibal’s eyes noticeably trail over Will’s frame as he too picks up his wine. “Indeed. They sit on my shelves doing more than just looking pretty, I assure you... Before college then?”

And without meaning to, Will takes Hannibal on a journey through the memories of Will’s youth that makes him sound like he’s lucky to have gotten anywhere in life. Will feels a small pang of regret as he talks of what was, for him, often neglect from his father, but as an alpha from such a blue collar background and of his time, Will’s father did not envision much of a future for Will beyond finding a mate and settling down and starting a family of his own.

“Did your family have money, Will?” Hannibal asks in a gentle voice of understanding.

“We were poor. I followed my father from the boat yards in Biloxi and Greenville to lake boats on Erie.” Will sets down his fork to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. This isn’t quite where he expected this evening’s conversation to go.

“Always the new boy at school? Always the stranger?”

“Yes.”

“That must have been difficult.”

Will huffs out a breath. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me, doctor?”

“Sorry, it’s a poor habit,” Hannibal apologizes and seems to mean it.

Will decides to push the conversation away from his past. “Tell me about yourself, Hannibal. You’re quite the talk in certain psychiatric circles. I’ve seen some of your lectures.”

“You’ve watched me speak?” Hannibal queries, surprise creeping into his voice, but his scent also shifts and Will can sense that the admission has increased the underlying thread of arousal that’s been running through Hannibal since Will turned up on his doorstep.

“I particularly enjoyed your observations on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder prevalence in omegas.”

“The study it was a part of will help further effective treatments for omegas everywhere. It was an honor to be a part of it.”

Seemingly preening under the attention, Hannibal regales Will with tales of a couple of disastrous social gatherings among his peers. Including one tale where Alana ended up having to fight off an omega and alpha who both wanted to go home with her. Will finds it pleasant to listen to Hannibal talk and smile at the little and big details that he calls attention to, always finding some reference, allegory or metaphor to turn to.

The food and company are more wonderful than Will had given himself the opportunity to hope for. That the alpha he had talked with in snatches of conversation for several years is as charming in real life as he had been over the phone, is a pleasant discovery indeed. As he sups with Hannibal, Will begins to genuinely believe that it’s right for him to be here.

All too soon they have finished dessert and coffees. It’s gone ten, but Will knows he doesn’t want to leave and he’s pretty sure that while Hannibal has been the perfect and most polite of hosts, he doesn’t want Will to leave either. That they’ve remained in their seats for as long as they have is a sign to the strength of their personal restraint. But Will _wants_ and he has never wanted quite like this.

Hannibal draws in a long breath through his nose and Will is sure he can scent his arousal which is now starting to show through. He can feel a dampness between his cheeks and the time for polite company is drawing to a close.

“Will?” Hannibal asks, voice only just steady.

In response, Will rises from his seat and steps beside Hannibal, purposefully bending over him so that his butt is stuck out. The blackness of Hannibal’s back yard is behind them, lost in the dark of the night.

“I hope you don’t think it rude, but I don’t want to leave,” Will says, face level with Hannibal’s. “And I also hope that those dishes will keep until the morning.”

Hannibal looks up at him with wide, hungry eyes. “Not at all… Please, follow me.”

Will steps back and Hannibal gets up from his seat. He takes Will by the hand and leads him through the house, and up the stairs. The contact both grounds Will and reassures him that this is what he wants. That the voice on the phone belongs to one of the most appealing alphas he has ever had the pleasure of being in the presence of.

Once they enter Hannibal’s bedroom, Will leans into Hannibal’s space and captures the alpha’s mouth with his own, the kiss bringing the taste of their meal and the wine, but also a sweetness that is just Hannibal. Will teases his tongue between Hannibal’s lips and Hannibal opens to him as he begins to unbutton their clothes. First Will’s and then his own. As they kiss and undress, Hannibal manages to steer them towards the immense California king bed in the middle of the room and Will falls down onto the bouncy mattress as his legs hit the edge. He looks Hannibal over, and marvels at the alpha’s long, curving cock that’s already leaking pre-come and has the hint of a knot showing.

Will shuffles backwards on the bed, making room for Hannibal, leaving a trail of slick along the silk sheets as his smaller omega cock bounces against his stomach. Hannibal towers over him and licks his lips.

“I’d like to taste you, Will. Please, show me yourself,” Hannibal requests rather than orders, not using his alpha voice at all. But because it’s his voice, his true voice, Will feels even more turned on.

Scrambling onto all fours, Will lowers his front while pushing his ass up into the air. He can feel his slick dripping out of his hole, sliding past his cheeks and down his thighs. The bed dips as Hannibal settles in behind him, face level with Will’s ass.

“I must ask… did I affect you during our calls as you affected me?” Hannibal ponders.

Face reddening, Will sucks in a harsh breath to get enough air to answer. “Yes,” Will just about manages to say.

“I’m glad that I am not alone then. I must confess that you sounded beautiful and to find you as such in person was like uncovering a rare book in and of itself. Pristine and fine. Full of depth and character,” Hannibal declares, getting closer to Will with each word until his breath ghosts over Will’s hot and leaking hole. Without further warning, Hannibal leans in and licks over the quivering ring of muscle, tasting Will and sending need and desire cascading through him. He feels slick pooling out of him and as pre-come drips from him and onto the silk sheets, he moans loudly and pants.

“Such gorgeous sounds,” Hannibal murmurs and then presses his tongue into Will, easily going past the first ring of muscle. Will resists grinding back, but Hannibal grips Will’s hips with his right hand, hard enough to leave a bruise, and pulls Will towards him in encouragement. Will pushes back and grinds up against Hannibal’s tongue and nose. He alternates between lathing his tongue at Will’s entrance and pressing in, getting Will wetter and leaving him crying out for more.

“Please, please, please!” Will begs, unable to say what he’s calling for.

He can almost see the smirk on Hannibal’s face as he pulls back from Will. “Please what? Use your words, Will.”

Will doesn’t need to look back to recall the heavy length of Hannibal’s cock. He takes a breath and marshals some words together. “You! Your cock!”

“Manners,” Hannibal huffs.

“Please!”

Instead of his cock though, Hannibal pushes two fingers into Will easily getting past both rings of muscle, flexing and scissoring inside of him over and over, then presses in further until he touches that sensitive nub inside Will. He strokes and caresses Will’s prostate, until a long dribble of pre-come drools out of Will and onto the sheets. Will cries out with Hannibal’s name, body tense and already on the verge of coming.

“You’re making a mess all over my sheets already,” Hannibal tuts, fondness and arousal making his voice take on a yearning deepness, “and I don’t even have my cock in you yet.”

It’s been years since Will permitted anyone this close to him and as Hannibal pulls his fingers out, leaving Will open and wanting, Will lets out a long, needy moan.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Hannibal says as he lines up and then grips Will’s hips hard as he pushes in without any more prep. They both groan as Hannibal slides into Will and bottoms out. Will feels perfectly full with Hannibal seated inside of him and can already feel the pressure of Hannibal’s knot starting to catch on his wet rim.

A handful of seconds pass and then Hannibal draws back, they both groan breathily and then swear as Hannibal thrusts back into Will. Hannibal does a few more experimental thrusts and then picks up the pace, hips snapping against Will’s as he fucks into him, the wet sound of Will’s slick making a melody of the act. Will’s hole eagerly draws in Hannibal’s cock, desperate for the knot to catch as Will is fucked to completion—he comes hard, body quivering.

“HANNIBAL!” he cries, smaller omega cock adding to the mess on the bed sheets as Hannibal grunts on top of him. “I’m yours,” Will whines, pleasure still rippling through him. “Yours!”

Shifting the two of them as he continues to pound into Will’s ass, Hannibal pulls Will up onto his knees as Hannibal’s knot finally catches. Hannibal growls and bites down on Will’s scent gland, hard enough to break the skin. A second orgasm screeches out of Will as he shouts from the bite and now being over sensitive, and Hannibal shudders as he pumps into Will, filling him over and over, to the extent that when Will looks down to his stomach he can see it rounding out a little.

The two of them collapse onto the bed and Hannibal ends up on his back with Will sprawled out on top of him, encouraging Will to turn around so that they can face each other. With the last of his energy, Will slowly scoots around, the knot tugging at his rim as he does, sending little waves of pleasure through both of them, until he’s facing Hannibal. Will spreads his thighs either side of Hannibal and then curls up against Hannibal’s chest, lying out on top of him.

“Here,” Hannibal motions, stroking the back of Will’s neck until he looks up at Hannibal. He bares his neck to Will like they are equals, scent gland in easy reach. Will leans in and bites and sucks until he can taste blood—tasting the aniseedy-lemoness that is pure Hannibal as he sucks and licks.

Will releases Hannibal’s neck and they share a slow, lazy kiss. Will settles back down against Hannibal’s chest as his alpha strokes his back, knot still deep inside Will. “I didn’t expect to come here tonight and end up mated,” he points out.

“I’ll admit, the thought did briefly cross my mind while I cooked this evening.” Hannibal shrugs. “Will, I have never felt more at peace.”

Rubbing his face into the light hairs on Hannibal’s chest, covering himself in Hannibal’s scent, Will finds himself agreeing. “Me neither.”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading. Kudos and comments appreciated.
> 
> Thank you again to my amazing artist, Ahumokio.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter at [hitthebookspost](https://twitter.com/hitthebookspost).


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